


Nullfying Evan

by pinklatent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, bsgc secret Santa 2016, bsgc secret santa, powers!Sam, psychic!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:28:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9016435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklatent/pseuds/pinklatent
Summary: A deranged psychic wreaking havoc in a town did the stupidest thing he could do-- attempt to kill Sam Winchester's family to taunt him into using his powers.AU after the events of LOTUS, supposing Sam and Dean managed to make a quick escape and Mary came back bunker after her sabbatical.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quickreaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quickreaver/gifts).



> BSCG Secret Santa 2016  
> Merry Christmas!  
> I have not written anything in over a year, but I dusted out my rusty writing skills just for this and did my best. I hope this is ok!
> 
> Warning for some blatant misuse of greek mythology.

It was supposed to be a straightforward hunt. Not simple, by any means, but straightforward as in the fate of the world was not tethering in any kind of balance whatsoever.

Mary was the one who found the case while browsing an online newspaper. Two strange deaths that happened in the same area in the span of two weeks. The two victims involved were unconnected, not locals, and had very public deaths where they were witnessed to have been holding their heads in pain and screaming just prior to dropping dead. The police were baffled, and the investigation was currently at a standstill.

The three Winchesters (and wasn’t that a strange thing to say) arrived in town with little fanfare and went about their usual investigative routine. Sam and Mary went about viewing the body and interviewing witnesses. Dean stayed in the motel they checked in to hack security feeds for any clues.

The investigation led Sam and Mary to a museum where a month-long Ancient Greek antiquities showcase was being held. The two victims who were not locals were most likely tourists, and there was a big chance that both of them had visited the museum at least once.

Evan was one of the museum guides, had an air of a scholar about him, and all of the arrogance of one. He took a look at the profiles that Sam had presented, and sneered.

“Yes, I’ve seen them here. Those two made a scene in front of one of the displays. We had to kick them out before they broke anything.”

When asked to show which display it was, Evan eyed them suspiciously before leading them deeper into the heart of the museum. They stopped in front of the book display.

“The Book of Pythia?” Mary said, reading the description. There were ancient-looking scrolls behind the glass display, seemingly ready to crumble if touched even slightly.

“The Oracle of Delphi, ancient greek mythology,” Sam supplied. “This is… at least three thousand years old?”

“Yes, this is the Scroll of Prophecies, one of the surviving relics of ancient Greece,” said Evan, sniffing. “They said it was written by the Pythia themselves during divining episodes--”

Sam lightly touched the glass display and immediately felt muted static coursing through his body and making his hair stand on end. He hid a wince and withdrew his hand, shaking it out with as much subtlety as he could. He turned and found Evan right to his face, nose flaring, muted anger in his expression.

“Don’t. Touch.”

Sam raised his hand in placation, “Okay, Christo, calm down.”

There was no outward reaction, no flinch, no black eyes flashing, but Evan was unappeased.

Sam and Mary had to leave the museum because the hostility that Evan was displaying was almost tangible and they had no plans of making a scene this early. They now had two possible working theories and one suspect. One, that Evan was a witch and was behind the deaths, and two, that the Book of Pythia was the cursed object that was causing the deaths.

Dean eventually found a connection, which he relayed as soon as Sam and Mary came back at the hotel.

“Took a bit of digging, but I found something. This guy is present in both incidences when the vics dropped dead.” He tapped a few keys on the laptop and brought up two blurry pictures that showed the same person.

It was Evan. His eyes were glowing as he looked intently at the victims, and smiled grimly as they dropped dead.

Further research indicated that there were three more previous victims in two different states that died similar deaths: two in Florida and one in Texas. And there was one thing that connected them: the Greek antiquities exhibition.

“Maybe the scroll is connected to Evan, somehow. He was too protective of it,” Sam said contemplatively.

“So, what, we burn it?” asked Mary.

“A relic that old could be too dangerous to burn. It could backfire on us. The best way is to contain it with a nullifying box,” said Dean.

It was still a straightforward hunt when Sam and Dean broke into the museum that night. Take away the tool and weaken the enemy considerably.

When they found the display empty, however, that’s when shit hit the fan.

***

It all culminated in this: going back to the hotel and finding it ransacked and empty, receiving a sinister phone call from Evan through Mary’s phone, Sam and Dean racing back to the museum and making their way to the roof of the building, finding Mary being held against a wall with nothing but air, and the brothers suddenly finding themselves unable to move a muscle right after the stair doors slammed closed.

“Welcome, welcome,” Evan announced, stepping to their field of vision grandiosely, like a second rate villain. “So nice of you to come.”

“Yeah, you didn’t really make it difficult,” Dean spat. Seeing Mary stuck on the wall made his heart leap to his throat.

“Yes, I made it that way. I think I did a splendid job,” Evan grinned. “Since I found out you guys were in town, I’ve been dying to meet you, actually.”

Evan walked towards Sam, glided until he was right in front of him face to face. “Especially you. Pleasure to meet you, Sam Winchester.”

“Yeah? I’ve got to say, the pleasure is definitely unreciprocated,” said Sam, grunting as the pressure holding him still increased.

“So, the scroll?”

“Just a prop,” Evan shrugged. “Nice bit of work with the static, right? Also, the hostile act? I deserve an Emmy. I needed to lure you in here, and what better way than a really good forgery?”

Sam inwardly cursed. He was off in his theory. “Yeah, whatever. Who do you work for?”

“Pardon?”

“Which demon do you work for? Who did you sell your soul to?” asked Sam.

Evan grinned. “No demon involved. Just me and my own capabilities.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, while Evan continued to monologue. A psychic. They were dealing with a psychic.

“See, there I was, just minding my own business and working in this library and going through university. Then I discovered something, completely by accident, mind you. Some dumb jock nudged one of the shelves I was stacking books in, this fifteen-foot shelf made of heavy mahogany, and I was sure I was going to die. But I managed to stop it. With my brain.”

“That’s interesting and all, but what’s it got to do with killing people?” growled Dean.

It was almost routine. One brother taunting their monster of the week and buying time while the other one frantically tries to think of a way out of being trapped.

Evan waved a hand and Dean held back a cry of pain as the pressure in his head increased.

“Be quiet, I’m getting to that,” Evan said dismissively, and turned to Sam. “Twenty years of thinking of myself as ordinary, as mediocre, and I discover that I have this power in me all along. So I started to experiment with it, started trying to improve it. At first I used it for good, you know, getting cats out of trees and all that jazz, but then… it got so utterly boring.”

“So, what, you started killing people because you’re bored?” taunted Dean.

“I said be quiet!” snarled Evan, and this time, Dean couldn’t prevent from screaming through gritted teeth as his brain felt like it was being squeezed through a tube.

“Stop! Stop it right now!” yelled Sam, and miraculously, Evan stopped. Dean panted through the sudden absence of pain.

Evan was a psychic, one of the few who had become greedy for power and started killing people. They’ve encountered a few over the years, people whose power were too massive to handle that it started affecting their minds. People like Fred Jones whose abilities started to actually reshape reality chose to shut themselves down to prevent people from being hurt. People like Evan went searching for more.

“Do you know why I wanted to meet you, Sam? A little birdie told me something interesting. They said that you’re like me. You have abilities similar to mine. I want to see it.”

Sam didn’t really think of himself as much of a psychic. The death visions and telekinetic abilities that evolved to exorcising demons-- he attributed it all to Azazel’s blood. When Azazel died, the power went dormant and could only be activated by consuming demon blood. After the last time he had detoxed, after Famine all those years ago, he had shoved aside all the knowledge, all the training, buried them deep in his memories and locked them there.

During the Trials, deliriously fevered and vomiting blood, he had hoped that it was Azazel’s blood that was being purged away, had hoped that the taint he had carried since he was six months old was being scrubbed off of his veins.

“I don’t know where you’re getting your news from, buddy, but that information is several years out of date,” Sam said.

Evan still held that challenging look. “See, they told me you would say that. That makes me more inclined to see if it was true.”

“Yeah? And how are you planning on doing that?”

Evan smirked. Suddenly, Mary screamed. Beside Sam, Dean broke a couple of molars trying not to scream in pain.

Rage started to bubble up in Sam. He’s so used to tamping it down, trying to not let anger cloud his judgement again ever since Lilith, but right now, seeing his only two surviving family members being hurt, he let the restraint go.

“Let them go. You stop right now,” Sam growled. He had overcome way more powerful beings that this measly psychic with using just pure will, and with that he shrugged away the power that was holding him still.

Evan looked almost delighted. “There you go! You see, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I want to see more. How about a contest, huh? I try to kill these people, and you, your job is to not let me.”

Evan sliced the air with his hand, just in time for Sam to turn around and watch Dean being flung headfirst from seven stories, and with a certainty that came from experience, he knew that is brother would not survive once he hit the ground. For a split second, he was tempted to fling himself off the edge and follow him in his plunge.

He reached his hand out in desperation towards his brother, willing something to happen, and in that instant, everything came roaring back-- the blocks he had subconsciously installed were overrun, and power that is familiar yet somehow different flooded his veins. With his hand, he pulled and yanked and willed and wow, he remembered this being less painful with Ruby. It was like catching a two hundred pound sack of flesh mid-fall with just one arm. Dean’s sudden halt a few feet away from the ground found Sam grunting and straining his spine and his brain and his very being.

Dean’s bewildered face as he righted himself up, feet touching the ground, light as a feather and easy as you please, would have been comical, if Sam wasn’t too busy trying not to bleed his brains out of his nose.

He turned to Evan, and then to his mother who was still being held hostage.

“Let her go or I’ll end you right now.”

“I don’t think so,” Evan laughed, excited. “That was impressive, very impressive! Now how about round two?” and stupidly choosing to fling Mary off the ledge too.

He didn’t get very far than moving his hand before Sam had enough and held his palm out. Evan froze mid-motion, and Mary dropped to the floor, invisible strings cut.

Evan cackled and moved to shrug off Sam’s hold on him… except nothing happened. He tried again, reaching to his core and feeding his attempts with more power. Sam was holding his head and blood was pouring out of his nose, but his hand stayed still and unshaken.

Evan started to get nervous.

Now it was Sam’s turn to grin. His white teeth were marred with the blood coming up his throat, and it made a foreboding image.

“Nothing left to say, Evan?”

Evan swallowed. “Hey, man, no harm, no foul, right?” he tried to laugh it off.

“I don’t think so.” Sam closed his eyes, held out his other palm, and concentrated. Evan screamed, bright yellow light seeping out of his chest and coalescing into a ball right in front of him.

“How are you doing this!?” Evan stared at the glowing light being pulled from somewhere inside him, unable to stop it. The heat was searing, like being three feet away from the sun.

Sam grunted, “Let’s just say I had a trainer from hell and leave it at that.” He closed his fist, and yanked. The glowing ball of light glowed brighter, more intense, and Evan’s screams reached a crescendo before abruptly dying down.

Sam slowly let go. The light dissipated. Evan collapsed into a heap on the floor, out cold.

“What did you do?” Mary asked.

Sam stared at his hand, then back at Evan. “Took away his powers. I didn’t even know I could do that.” He let out a rough laugh and dropped to his knees.

***

And that was how Dean found him, on his knees, head pressed against the floor and hands knotted on his hair. Mary was right by him, unknowing of what to do to lessen the young man’s distress.

“Sam? Sammy, you okay?”

Sam grunted, tried to resist Dean’s attempts to raise his head up. He was too busy trying to let go, force the power in him to die down. Tried to breathe through the blood in his nose. Now that he wasn’t manipulating it, the power was threatening to overwhelm him, grinding against his brain and boiling the blood in his veins, and hysterically, he thought the demon blood must have acted like some kind of lubricant or something, because this was worse than the Trials.

“Sam!”

“Check on mom,” he grunted.

“She’s ok, Sam. She’s ok. C’mon, let me see. Man, you’re losing a lot of blood. C’mon, Sammy, look at me…”

Mercifully, the burning started dying down, the power started to recede back to where it was locked in Sam’s subconscious. He was able to breath better.

He looked up and met Dean’s furrowed brows, Dean’s hands on both sides of his face and trying to wipe the blood away. Mary was standing right behind him, a concerned look in her face. It looked too much like one of his hallucinations back in the detox room.

“I didn’t take drink any blood, I swear, Dean, I swear--” he said, lightheaded and overcome with sudden need to make Dean believe him. 

“I know buddy. I believe you, Sammy.”

“Is jus’ regular psychic crap. ‘M not even high, see?”

“No, but you are loopy,” Dean smiled.

Dark spots were dancing on the edge of his field vision.

“Come on, dude, let’s go home.”

Dean put one of Sam’s arms around his shoulders and on the count of three, heaved Sam up. Mary went to the other side and put his other arm around her for support. They headed down the stairs.

“So, uh, let me get this right. Sam, you’re psychic?” Mary asked.

“It’s… a long story…”

“Hey, eight hours of car ride home, I have plenty of time,” Mary said, lightly. “I have an idea, though.”

“Yeah?” chorused the brothers.

“What do you say, we make a detour to Vegas? We’d make a killing.”

Dean barked a laugh. Sam snorted blood up his nose and ended up coughing while trying to laugh at the same time.

"You are so our mother."


End file.
